"Browns Fan Lament"

c. 2019 Rod Ice All rights reserved (12-19)

Freddie’s fired
His day is done
We hoped for wins
But they haven’t come
This portly sap
With his orange sheath
Looks lost and lonely
Beyond belief

He got the job
With hopes of change
From the dumpster fires
To better days
From Hue the rube
To a Lombardi hoist
From dark days, dim
To Super Bowl noise

Freddie’s fired
Just another chump
Rolling, churning
In the garbage dump
We had the talent
A group to play
Nick Chubb and Baker
And OBJ

Now the dawg is a hawg
An overfed fluke
Stammering on the sidelines
What can he do?
Play-calling plunder
Fans cover their eyes
Freddie fails again
He’s not our guy

What about John Dorsey?
And the Haslams as well?
We’ve got a full crew
On this ride into hell
But tonight has one star
Walking misery
It’s Kitchens the hound
Kicking at fleas

Freddie’s fired
A scapegoat or a turd?
The radio will tell
Let the callers be heard
Pittsburgh missed the playoffs
That gives us a grin
But our Cleveland Browns
Are losers again

Freddie’s fired
Point him to the exit
The wunderkind not so bright
We’ve stepped in dog s***
One more name to curse
One more kill in the road
We smoke quarterbacks and coaches
Like a wood burning stove

 Freddie’s fired
Sleigh bells jingling
A late present from Christmas
Not a Super Bowl ring
Instead its a coal
Left forgotten and cold
A black lump of nothing
Like the hurt in our souls

To the Bengals we’ve fallen
Their second of wins
The sportswriters’ prophecy
Sounds unbearably grim
Front office in peril
An owner-buffoon
If Cleveland wins anything
It won’t happen soon

Paul Brown lives in memory
Alive in tradition
But this season is over
It hasn’t been fun
Kitchens is unemployed
Another coach canned
Another end to the campaign
Quicker than planned

Freddie’s fired
No Belichick was he
No champ Blanton Collier
No Marty with a gleam
Just a guy in his hoodie
Bright orange and such
He took on the league
But needed too much

Dorsey rolled the dice
For this team by the lake
Another losing year
Another mistake
Now to the off-season
We plod with our beer
Someone will celebrate
But it ain’t happening here!

Freddie’s fired
My heart is in Cleveland
But everything else
Is burned to a crisp
My loyalty
Never fails to endure
But I’m drunk on a Sunday
Of that, I am sure!

Freddie’s fired
Shuffled out the back
Damn good intentions
He’s out with the trash
All summer we’ll drink beer
Talk of Jim Brown and friends
Till next season arrives
And we do it again